Scared Stiff
by 5SteamboatsShippingCo
Summary: The first story from the combined efforts of Jamie and Mia. Booth and Brennan attempt to spend the night in a haunted house to one-up the other. Maybe fear isn't the only emotion they'll end up feeling...
1. Chapter 1

**Helloooooo... Jamie and Mia wish you a Happy Friday! **

**_So... without further adieu, we present to you the first half of a silly little two-shot we cooked up the last few days. While debating all the angsty routes we could pursue throughout our partnership, we made a few jokes that sounded a little too fun to ignore, and this little story was born. We hope you enjoy it, and... Umm. We liked to be praised. Copiously. And not criticized. At all. So. Do that, or else. ;) (kidding, we're kidding...) _**

**_Plus, poor Jamie is all alone in the car on her way to another state, and Mia needs something to read to her while she's driving. So we need reviews so she doesn't fall asleep at the wheel, you know??_**

**_Also, this is only part one. Smuttiness shall ensue in part two, so if you don't find this first half as amusing as we do, you'll at least have something to look forward to..._**

**_With that in mind, we now present to you the first effort of 5 Steamboats Shipping Co:_**

**Scared Stiff**

**A two-shot**

Seeley Booth's heels thumped impatiently against the side of the crate he sat on as his fingers methodically twisted the flashlight on an off. When he clicked it on for the umpteenth time, he lifted it, letting it shine across the spacious basement. The air was damp, and he zipped his jacket up quickly against the chill. The room was nearly silent, and he heard only the sound of the wind and branches scraping lightly against the windows and the creak of the old house.

The walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life next to him, making him jump.

"Booth?"

He snatched up the radio, pressing the button. "Yeah, Bones?"

"You scared yet?"

He heard the amusement in her voice and scowled. "Well, you're the one who can't sit by herself in the attic without talking to me every two minutes, apparently._ You _scared yet?"

Her laughter rang out in the large room through his radio, and he sighed, irritated. Leave it to her to attempt to emasculate him in under ten minutes.

"I'm a former ranger, Bones. I'm an FBI agent, for god's sake. I'm not scared of a damn basement."

"Even all alone down there in the dark?" she teased. "I know you aren't exactly fond of spiders."

He swung his feet out and jumped from the box, shining his flashlight where he'd been sitting. "That's not true. Spiders don't bug me at all." He frowned when he thought he saw something scuttle across the floor. "Besides," he muttered snidely. "It's not like attics are known for being spider-free."

There was no response for a moment, and he grinned. He could almost see her shining her own flashlight in his mind and chuckled. "See any yet?"

"I wasn't looking," she muttered. She was silent for another minute, and when she spoke again, her voice had changed and he knew he was in trouble simply from the tone she used.

"You know what _is_ up here..?" she asked sweetly.

He sighed. "No, Bones, I do not. Because I'm in the basement -- not the attic."

She sounded positively gleeful when she finally spoke. "A clown suit."

He shuddered immediately, his skin crawling. "Very funny."

"I'm not kidding," she said in a sing-song voice. He heard a large thunk from her end and he jumped again.

"Bones! You okay?" he said tensely, clutching the radio.

"It was just the lid of a trunk, Booth."

She chuckled through the static, and he shivered slightly in the chilly basement. "You know, there's a wig up here, a mask, one of those big plastic flowers that squirt water…"

"You're not going to scare me by talking about a clown costume," he snapped.

"You were scared when we were after that guy at Halloween."

He lifted his flashlight again, sweeping the room. "Because that costume happened to contain a serial-killer, Bones. Not someone who made balloon animals." He paused. "And I was not scared."

She suddenly let out squeak and his heart leapt in his throat. "Bones!"

"It's nothing," she said quietly. "Just a mouse."

He relaxed quickly and smiled, feeling somewhat smug over her reaction. "This was your idea, your dare," he teased. "You're the one who wanted to see who could last in this house longer." _And it better be me._

He practically heard her scowl. "Because you were jumping like a five year old girl when we came to see the body, that's why." She snickered. "Especially when you heard the neighbors say this place was haunted."

He chewed on his lip, and again brought up the flashlight, shining it towards the stairs. "I can last down here for _days_, baby," he promised, his voice low. "Just watch."

"Mmmm…" she murmured. "We'll see about that. You're the one who believes in ghosts, right?"

"I never said that," he said quickly. "You just immediately announced that you did not – not that it was a big shocker or anything."

"Ghosts are a physical improbability."

The beam of his flashlight suddenly settled on an intricate and broad web with an enormous spider in the center, and he swallowed, checking his watch. Eight hours until sunrise.

"I guess we'll find out."

--

Easy, easy, she told herself. This was going to be so easy. Because of the following:

A. Insects didn't bother her. She worked with dead things. Dead things frequently attracted insects of some sort. So much so that she had to work with a man who was so enamored by insects that he routinely referred to them as "exotic beauties."

B. Rodents didn't bother her. They were just tiny little mammals…not that much different than cats or dogs, she reasoned.

C. The dark was just the dark. There was nothing in this room that wasn't here a few hours ago, when sunlight streamed through the small window.

D. Corpses didn't bother her. The whole "working with dead things" fact again. So the graveyard that sat just a few yards away from this house, and the fact that another body had actually been found inside this house, meant absolutely nothing about the relative comfort or discomfort she felt being in this place.

But she had to admit…all those things put together did give this place a certain…unsettling atmosphere. And she was an imaginative person; had to be, to be successful at writing, so when she first saw that clown suit draped haphazardly across an old coat rack it had been all too easy to picture a hulking creature of the night in the corner, waiting and watching her with predatory eyes for just the right moment to pounce on her…

Silly.

"You suppose there are snakes in an old house like this?"

The sound from the walkie-talkie jolted her. Shaking her head, she lifted the receiver to her mouth. "If there were, they'd be more likely to gravitate towards the area with water. Like the basement."

"You know what I don't understand, Bones? You were so scared of all those snakes on Halloween. Needed me to carry you around like a little girl. But when we were in New Orleans and came across that giant voodoo snake, you acted like you wanted to take it home with you."

Her flashlight scanning the floor, she murmured back, "The big ones don't move as fast on land. I could probably escape it. The little ones…just have this look in their eyes. Like they'd like nothing more than to slither up my pant leg and bite me." She gave an involuntary shudder.

"In the ass?" he teased, and she knew he was downstairs with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Shut up, Booth." She heard the edge in her own voice, and hated it.

"Are you scared, Bones?"

"No."

"You sure? Let me tell you a little about the fear response to be sure. Your muscles tighten and oxygen starts flowing to the parts of the body you'd need for a physical response. One may start to sweat, as the blood flowing away from the visceral areas. Your pupils dilate, your skin tingles, your heart rate increases, you start breathing faster…"

"There are other causes for that response," Brennan blurted out. "If I were experiencing that, it wouldn't mean that I'm afraid." She stood and began to pace, the floor creaking with every step, trying to shut off her partner's talk of tingles and heavy breathing.

There was a pause on his end. "What else would it mean?" he asked quietly, and something flipped in her stomach at his tone of voice and she shrugged it off.

"One might have a similar response if she were excited. Say, about winning a bet."

"You are just so sure of yourself," he snapped.

A gust of wind outside whistled through a crack in the window. She dropped to the floor again, drawing up her knees to her chest. _Seven more hours._

"I don't buy that you are up there all wound up about the prospect of winning five dollars."

"_And_ a week of driving," she reminded him.

"Even so."

"Surprise. Anxiety. Sexual arousal. All physiologically similar."

"There's nothing that's a bigger turn-on than an attic full of snakes and spiders and ghosts."

Her heart leapt, and she quickly got up off of the floor, brushing off her bottom. "Hey Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you do if I put on this clown suit? And chased you around the house?"

She grinned at his tone of horror. "Um. Well. At some point, I would suppose that I'd have to make sure you had a snake up your pant leg." Her smile fell off.

"Point taken."

The wind blew again, making the rafters moan.

It was going to be a long night.

……………………

Her voice was low and sweet the next time it crackled through the radio, but her words were anything but – he sighed heavily when she asked him how the rats were doing.

Picking up the radio, he pursed his lips for a moment, considering his response. "Why don't you come down here and find out?" he taunted softly.

She ignored his response. "Did you know that before autopsies were popular, people were sometimes mistakenly buried alive?"

He rolled his eyes. "Bones, if this is your best attempt at scaring me, you're failing miserably."

He could practically hear her smile. "It's true. They had to invent a system where the person inside the coffin could ring a bell above ground for the ground's keeper of the cemetery to hear." She paused. "Can you imagine that? Waking up underground with a piece of wood two inches from your face in the complete darkness?"

He shivered but kept his tone neutral, refusing to give her even a hint of satisfaction that she'd effected him. "Do you know what a man's deepest fear is, Bones?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes. At his core, a man's deepest fear is being laughed at or rejected – especially by women."

He frowned. "_What_? No. That's not --"

"Sure it is. Anthropologically speaking –"

"No, no, no," he muttered. "I refuse to believe that's the case. Who said that? Some wank-job from –"

"It's common knowledge," she replied coolly. "And at her core, a woman's greatest fear is that a man will kill her." She paused. "What's a wank-job?"

Flustered by her response, he started pacing back and forth across the cement floor. "Bones, my deepest fear is not rejection from a woman."

"It isn't?"

He paused, considering this. There was absolutely no way, after fighting in a war and tracking down serial killers that his greatest fear was being laughed at – by a woman, no less. No, that was absolutely absurd.

Maybe being laughed at by Bones. Maybe.

"Rejection is not the worst thing," he muttered.

There is silence on the other end for a moment, and he fidgets waiting for her to respond. Bones is anything but predictable, and he's already anticipating a curve ball of some sort.

And she doesn't disappoint.

"So you're saying that proposing to Rebecca wasn't the scariest thing you've done? Being a sniper was scarier? Fearing for your life perhaps? Or facing down Epps? I imagine you had to be quite brave to do all those things."

He shut his eyes and prayed for patience. "Bones, it's not the same thing at all."

"Why not?"

"We're discussing lack of fear, not bravery."

"It's the same thing."

For a woman so brilliant, she could often be quite dense.

"Being unafraid and being brave are not the same thing," he explained, feeling exasperated. "They're related, but not synonymous."

She seemed to consider this for a moment – at least he assumed that's what she was doing by the silence on the other end. He never could be sure. She could be doing physics in her head for all he knew.

"How do you think they're related?" she finally asked.

Her tone was interesting. He couldn't tell if she had asked because she already knew the difference and just wanted to hear what he had to say, or if she really didn't understand.

He scraped the toe of his shoe across the floor. "I think... that being brave has a lot to do with being afraid of something and doing it anyway. How can it be considered brave if it isn't something you're afraid of?"

Again, there was silence on the other end, and he shifted impatiently and shivered again in the chill. He should have worn a warmer jacket.

"So you weren't afraid Rebecca would turn you down?"

He dropped his free hand against his thigh in frustration. "Of course I was afraid, Bones. But I wouldn't say it was my deepest fear."

She chuckled. "Oh? What is your deepest fear?"

_You_.

He shook his head, surprised by the thought that had immediately materialized. "I don't know," he muttered. "Something happening to Parker, probably."

She seemed to accept his answer for now, and he was about to attempt to change the subject, preferably something more titillating than his rejected marriage proposal, when something ran over his foot and he let out a shout.

"Booth?" she gasped suddenly, her voice echoing from the radio. "You alright?"

The beam of the flashlight traced the floor in time to see a rat scurry into the corner and he shuddered.

"_Booth??_"

_Let her sweat a minute_, the thought. That's what she gets for pestering me about my "deepest fear".

"Booth!"

He chuckled finally. "Guess we know what frightens you."

"Oh, you bastard!" she cursed. "That wasn't funny."

He laughed again. "So, Bones… you feeling tingly yet?"

--

The bare branches of the trees outside the window were casting strange shadows on the wall through the moonlight. If you squinted at those shadows, they resembled large, pointed claws, beckoning at her…she turned away from the wall.

"It can actually feel pretty good, you know." Having habituated to the crackle of the receiver, she didn't jump quite as high this time. Why did everything he said tonight sound like an innuendo? It unsettleld her, in a strangely pleasant kind of way. She picked it up and pressed the 'talk' button.

"What's that, Booth? Sleep? Because right about now, that would feel very good." Even though she had been sitting up every five minutes from her resting spot on the blanket, disturbed by the old house's noises.

"Having trouble falling asleep, Bones?" he asked softly. "I could always come up there and tuck you in. Although I'm pretty sure that would be a violation of the terms of the bet...we were supposed to do this alone."

She fought back a shiver, and wondered what he would say if she took him up on his offer. "I'm absolutely fine. Soon I'll be sleeping like a baby." She paused. "Maybe you're the one scared to sleep alone who needs to be tucked in," she shot back. _Ha. Take that, Seeley 'Smart Ass' Booth._

"Is that an invitation?"

_Yes._ _Please_, her internal voice quipped. She shook it aside. This place was starting to get to her, mess with her head.

"I don't know... are you scared?"

He ignored her. "Some people purposely seek out frightening situations for the rush. Think of how packed theme parks get…all those people lined up to scream their heads off on roller coasters. And all the bungee jumping fans."

"Sensation-seeking," she murmured. "For some, the Yerkes-Dodson curve is skewed to the right." Rolling to her stomach, she flipped her flashlight back on.

"Yeah, Bones. Sometimes I like to make up words, too."

"No," she insisted. "The relationship of stress to mood and performance. Most of us have a bell curve. But some people actually function better with greater stress."

"Sickos," he muttered.

"Typically, those involved in law enforcement and the military are very high sensation-seekers," she replied sweetly.

"Thank you. Thank you for calling me a sicko."

She was distracted by the spot on the ceiling above her that the flashlight illuminated. A daddy-long-legger was lazily making its way across. She wrinkled her nose, and thought about moving somewhere else. Like, a real hotel, perhaps.

"Bones? You there?"

"Yes."

"You're breaking up."

"Oh?" She tapped the receiver experimentally. "That better?"

"Bones, I can't hear you…something's weird here." She could hear him fiddling with his receiver.

"Everything okay?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"I think…" He cut out. "Do you hear something? What was that?"

"Booth? You better not be messing with me."

There was only static in answer.

"Booth! I swear…"

Nothing. Either the battery had died on his receiver. Or something awful had happened to him.

This is _not_ what she signed up for. They were supposed to keep tabs on one another with their walkie-talkies. As long as she could talk to him, she knew she'd be alright. Now...

She struggled into a sitting position. And that's when she heard it.

**_CRASH_**. From some unidentifiable part of the house. It sounded as if a large object had been pushed to the floor. Or, as if a risen-from-the-dead corpse was stumbling about the house, searching by smell for the blood of the living, perhaps making its way down the basement stairs to trap her partner there…

The latter option shot through her instantaneously, at a visceral level before her mind could tell her how ridiculous the thought was, and she was surprised by the loudness of the scream that left her lips as she reeled to her feet. Her shaking hands dropped the flashlight, and it clattered while rolling across the rickety wooden boards of the floor.

"Bones!!"

Booth. Screaming. For her help. Somewhere inside the house.

Her body on autopilot now, she swiped the flashlight from the floor. Unable to distinguish between her fight or flight response, she chose both. Running full-force towards the attic's trapdoor, she prepared to face whatever demons were haunting her partner.

--

Breeze whistled through the crack in one of the basement windows, the sound low and eerie. Booth lifted his head from where it rested against the wall. He found himself wondering what Bones considered a "rush." He pictured her upstairs, goosebumps covering her bare skin. He wondered, if she were to be mildly anxious or nervous, if her breath would become more rapid, if her chest would heave slightly. She'd told him those kind of responses could be similar to arousal, and the thought of her reacting in that way, based on what he said to her through the radio, made his own body feel slightly heavy, to tingle in response.

Did he have that effect on her? Sometimes he could swear he did. Other times, he found himself dismissed by her cool gaze.

He heard an impatient sigh through the radio. "Having trouble falling asleep, Bones?" he murmured. He followed up with some comment about whether or not she needed him to tuck her in. The thought having left his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration at himself. Stupid. He'd meant for it to tease, and ended up only teasing himself with the possibility.

There was a pause on the other end, and he held his breath, wondering if she would actually take the dare.

"I'm absolutely fine. Soon, I'll be sleeping like a baby." There was a long pause before she threw the offer of being tucked in back to him. Of course she would.

His stomach flip-flopped. "Is that an invitation?"

"I don't know... are you scared?"

"Some people purposely seek out frightening situations for the rush," he told her quietly, trying to cover up his disappointment, continuing to tease her. He talked to her about roller coasters and bungee jumpers and all the crazy things that people did for a little thrill.

"Sensation-seeking," she murmured. "For some, the Yerkes-Dodson curve is skewed to the right."

The what? He shook his head. "Yeah, Bones. Sometimes I like to make up words, too."

"No." She hadn't sounded impatient, but he figured she'd launch into an explanation nonetheless. And she did; told him about how some people like to put themselves in danger just for the fun of it.

"Sickos," he muttered.

As usual, she found a way to irritate him further, her voice sugar-coated, even through the static. "Typically, those involved in law enforcement and the military are very high sensation-seekers."

He grunted. "Thank you. Thank you for calling me a sicko." He squinted in the darkness. Had something moved? This was ridiculous. He could be asleep in a hotel nearby if she hadn't tried to insult his masculinity and imply he was a wimp. Just because he didn't get excited by the sight of decomposed corpses didn't mean he was a wimp.

She hadn't responded to his sicko comment yet, and he frowned. "Bones? You there?"

He couldn't make out her response, and his shoulders tensed. "You're breaking up."

Only static crackled through the line, and he stood up nervously.

"Bones, I can't hear you…something's weird here." He flipped on the flashlight, pointing it at the radio, and the small red light on the top of the hand piece flickered.

And then the floorboards above his head creaked, and his heart slammed in his chest.

"I think something's upstairs." He took a step towards the stairs hesitantly. "Do you hear something? What was that?"

He still couldn't hear her, and then the static cut off abruptly and the red light winked out and he was standing only in darkness and silence.

An enormous crash reverberated from above and he nearly jumped ten feet. Had something fallen? Had something happened to her? Maybe she'd just knocked something over, or crashed into a piece of furniture...

Or maybe they weren't as alone as they thought.

That's when he heard the scream. _Oh, god. Bones._ She was three floors above him, trapped in a small attic. If anything happened to her because his stupid batteries died, or because he'd allowed them to hang out in some freaky old house with possible creeps and murderers who dared to come near his partner, he'd never forgive himself. Never.

"Bones!!"

He raced towards the wooden stairs, thundering up them two at a time, his hand collecting splinters from the old railing as he hoisted himself up at a frantic pace. As he burst through the door, his flashlight crashed to the floor and he stopped in the dark kitchen, his breath coming in sharp bursts. "Bones!"

He heard footsteps above him, but had no way of knowing whether it was her or an intruder. He turned his head in both directions and then glanced at the ceiling, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. He shivered, closing his eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to slow the frantic beat of his heart.

_Focus, you fool. Focus._

And then he heard her, heard her calling for him. He turned towards the right, racing down the hall.

--

She was calling his name again and again, unconsciously, and she could hear him too, a perverse form of the Marco Polo game she used to play with her brother, except there was nothing fun about imagining her partner hurt or injured somewhere in this godawful place. She hadn't really noticed before just how _large_ this house was...now it seemed there were hundreds of rooms, all of them shadowy and dark and none of them containing the person she so badly needed to find. And then he _stopped_ screaming, and that was somehow worse.

What a stupid idea this had been. Out in the middle of nowhere in this strange place, where they had found a _dead body_. Granted, she had all but confirmed that said body was in the state it was in due to natural causes, and not a bloody murder, but _still_, this place was a psycho killer's dream lab, not to mention in such a state of disrepair that she should have accurately predicted that something bad would happen. And now she was stumbling around in the dark while God-knows-what was had happened to her partner...stupid. She was never going to forgive herself for this one.

How many bedrooms did any one house _need_? She must have found herself in at least four by now. Her desperation had her body reacting...pounding heart, sweaty palms, panting breath, skin tingling...yes. This wasn't anything else but fear.

She flew, flashlight pointing in no one particular direction, looking everywhere and nowhere. And when she ran into the living room, almost crying, her overtaxed heart nearly exploded when she collided head-on into another large, moving object. She screamed again, and the object screamed back as they both reeled away. Two beams flailed for a moment before they fell on each other.

Jesus. Booth. Alive and seemingly well. Gasping in relief, she fell towards him. They gripped each other's upper arms as they blurted out questions and comments at each other's faces.

"Where _were_ you?"

"What _happened_??"

"Did you _hear_ that??"

"Where did you _go_??"

"I thought that..."

"And there was that crash..."

"I was _so afraid_..." Those particular words rushed out at the same from both of their mouths. That made them stop and stare at one another again with their wide, panicked eyes.

Then, again, much closer this time...a crash. Not as loud. But in the room. They both squeaked and whirled back-to-back, trying to find the unwanted soul in the room.

"Bones," she heard him whisper shakily, and she looked in the direction of his flashlight beam. A lamp, long since without electricity, broken on the wooden floor, shade rolled aside. And, next to it, a picture frame. Slowly, he raised the beam upwards, up the legs of the table, to the top, until they were staring straight into the eyes of...

A cat. A gray-and-white, yellow-eyed cat who eyed them nonchalantly as it licked its paw, looking at them as if to say "What the hell is wrong with you people?" It must have knocked those objects to the floor, and that was the crash they heard. They stared back for a moment, before their eyes returned to each other's. Brennan wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

Booth spoke first. "This place is _horrible_."

"Yes," she agreed, uncomfortably. There was now something awkward about the fact that there wasn't a murderer or a ghost chasing them. She shined her light onto the floor.

At that moment, there was a loud rumbling sound, and the room filled with a brief, intense flash of light. Right before the sky apparently opened up. The sound of fat raindrops pounding onto the window panes was everywhere. It was officially, a dark, stormy night. She shuddered hard, and he put a protective arm around her.

"You think...maybe...we should get out of here?" he asked, uncertainly.

"But the storm," she replied helplessly. "We'll get wet..."

Suddenly, she felt a light brush to her right ankle. Remembering their company this time, she didn't jump, but just looked down to see their new friend weaving in and out between her feet. Cute.

Then she saw the dead mouse it had deposited in front of her. The cat looked up at her proudly.

--

Absolute panic had grabbed him. Her screams had terrified him enough, but when they suddenly stopped, and he could only hear the distant and rapid movement of feet, his heart nearly busted free from his chest. _Oh, god._

Trying to keep quiet so that he remained the hunter and not the hunted, he tried to recall the steps he'd been taught while being trained as a ranger to quiet his breathing. Keeping his feet silent was almost an impossibility -- every time he stepped an old floorboard creaked under his weight. The footsteps were easier to pick up, and they sounded light and quick. A woman? It could be Bones; she could still be alright.

Or she could be running from someone.

Screw the ranger training. He raced around the corner, pushing open the first doorway he found. "_Bones?_" he whispered raggedly.

Nothing.

He repeated the process three more times, until he was so anxiety-ridden and fearful he was practically weeping. How many damn rooms were in this stupid house?? And why hadn't he noticed how big it was before? All the symptoms they'd ticked off earlier were present -- his palms were sweating, his heartbeat accelerated. He just wanted to find her -- _now._

He tore down the hallway and around the corner into the living room and suddenly ran full-tilt-boogie into another body. A terrified shriek erupted from the intruder, and he let out a terrified shout, leaping back.

_Oh my god_. _Bones_. She dropped into his arms and he wanted to throttle her and kiss her at the same time, he was so relieved. They shot questions back at one another for several moments, fighting to calm down, and his fingers dug into her upper arms.

He sucked in a breath, still trying to convince himself she was alright, words falling from his mouth without thought. "_I was so afraid_."

She blurted out the exact same words at the same moment and his eyes widened. He just blinked at her in the near-darkness, his heartbeat still a wild staccato, realizing it had as much to do with his residual fear for her and realizing she'd been terrified... for him.

Before he could speak again something fell to the floor across the room, glass shattering, and he whirled around and felt her back pressed against his own as he swept the wall with the beam of his flashlight

A busted lamp and shattered picture frame were surrounded by winking pieces of glass. But there was no sign of anyone, and he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "Bones..."

She was suddenly next to him, her breathing ragged as he moved the beam up from the floor and saw...

A cat. A damn_ cat_ was sitting there nonchalantly licking his paws. Not a ghost. Not a killer after his partner.

A. cat.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "This place is _horrible_."

She agreed with him, and he shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say next. Couldn't exactly say what he was thinking, which was somewhere along the lines of:_ I thought you were in trouble and... maybe that's my deepest fear come to life._

As if things couldn't get any worse, the sky suddenly erupted and rain pounded the roof, pinging against the windows, and an explosion of thunder made them both jump as the room lit up with the glow of lightning. She shook next to him, either from fear or cold, and he wrapped his arm tightly around her, relieved to feel the heat from her body, comforted that she was finally next to him.

He hesitated for a moment before asking if maybe she thought they should leave, unsure if she was as horrified as he was.

She seemed concerned by the fact that they would most likely be drenched, and he weighed their options for a moment while she glanced between her feet and he followed her gaze.

The cat had proudly deposited a dead, bloody mouse next to her shoe, and he felt her revulsion coming off of her in waves as the cat began to purr.

"Booth?"

He felt his own stomach churning. His armpits were damp with sweat and he his throat was dry. This was, without a doubt, the worst idea they'd ever had. And if she still wanted to stay, he was going to have to either reason with her or pretend he didn't mind sitting all night in a creepy-ass old house with a homicidal cat during a massive thunder storm for a measly five bucks and the right to drive his _own_ vehicle.

But she made it easy for him, and he found himself thanking God when she finally spoke.

"Get me the hell out of here _right this second_."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Uuuummm...so remember that thing about us saying this would be a two-shot? Make that a three-shot. We are wordy:)**

**But we do promise that you'll get the next chap much faster. Since it's almost done:) And, we also promise that we think you are awesome. Esp. if you review:-D Enjoy!**

**--**

The door swung open with a creak and Seeley groaned as cold, damp air hit them in a rush. His heart sunk as he saw the rain cascading in dense sheets from the clouded sky. The truck was across the yard, tucked next to a low-hanging tree out of the sight of any neighbors. By the time they reached it, they'd be soaked.

His partner let out a frustrated breath beside him, and he glanced over at her to see her eyes settled on the vehicle across the yard.

"Why on earth did you have to park so far away?"

Feeling defensive, he scowled. "I told you – I didn't want anyone to know we were here."

"Fine, fine," she muttered. "We're going to be soaked down to our underwear."

For some reason, despite the impending misery of being soaked to the bone, her words caused a shiver to run up his spine. He'd never seen her that way – it sounded…new, sexy.

"Ready? To run for it?" she asked impatiently. "Do you have the keys out?"

He pointed the remote and the taillights flashed. "Already open."

She took a deep breath. "Alright…. Let's go!"

And he followed her into the downpour, instantly battered by sharp, freezing rain as they raced across the mud. The water ran down the neck of his jacket and soaked his t-shirt instantly, and he blinked rapidly to keep more from leaking into his eyes and obscuring his vision.

When they reached the truck, they both wrenched the doors open and lunged upwards into the seats, breathing heavily.

"I am soaked," she moaned next to him, holding her hands out to the sides, giving him a disparaging look.

He nodded at the state of her clothes, plucking at his own drenched t-shirt when she suddenly unzipped her jacket and his eyes snapped back to her body. She was attempting to peel the now nearly transparent cotton of her shirt that had suckered itself to her damp skin back from her chest, and he found himself mesmerized. _Oh, god._

"Are you going to start the car?" she grumbled, not looking up from her clothes. "We could use some heat, I'm freezing."

Embarrassed, he snapped the headlights on and jammed the key in the ignition and turned.

_Nothing._

His eyes widened, and he turned the key again. There was a slight sputter from the engine, but it stubbornly refused to turn over.

"No, no, NO," he chanted. "No way, no!!"

His partner turned to him, her eyes wide as saucers. "_No?_?" she said sharply. "What does _that _mean??"

He cursed under his breath, snapping out his arm to open his door again and grimacing as he dropped back into the downpour, stalking towards the hood of the car and wrenching it up, digging his flashlight from his pocket. _What the hell_?

Bones was suddenly next to him, the rain plastering her hair to the sides of her face, the wind whipping cruelly at both of them. "What. Is. _Wrong_?" she demanded.

"I don't _know_ yet!" he snapped back. "I've been out here two seconds longer than you!"

"This is unbelievable!" she groused. "Whose stupid idea was this, anyway?"

When he glanced up at her, she was glaring at him, her eyes flashing.

"YOURS!" he bellowed, turning away from the engine and towards her. "_Your_ dare, remember?? You said –"

"Fine, fine!" she said, throwing her hands up. "It was my idea! You're the one who suggested we do it _tonight_. Did you even check the weather report??"

She was unbelievable. This was his fault?

He was about to express this exact thought rather… colorfully, when a huge crack of thunder suddenly ripped towards them and she shrieked loudly, leaping into his arms, her hands searching and tugging for some kind of purchase. Her whole body shook, and he grabbed her tightly as lightning flashed and lit up the engine. He could hear the fierce pounding of her heart against his own, and her breasts heaved against him.

"Get back in the car," he ordered loudly, his voice muffled by the thundering of rain. "I'll figure this out, alright?"

She nodded, and pulled from his embrace slowly. Her eyes met his and for an instant, lightning crackled again, only it never illuminated the sky.

--

Well, it may not have been his fault, but she knew very well that she didn't sign up for _this_ particular little cliched version of hell, with its haunted house and its dark, stormy night and its engine problems. She was cold and wet and had nearly had the life scared out of her, so naturally, her annoyance turned to the person for whom's life she had feared. And she could not seem to stop herself from projecting everywhere into the night, even when it meant she had to leave the relative safety of the car to continue yelling at him about the engine issues. She reminded him in detail of his part in this whole mess. Had he never heard of the weather channel??

Thunder sounded and lightening clapped, loudly. All the neurotic anxiety inside of her, leftover from their mad chase inside the house, was lit up in flames at that second. Throwing her body up against his hard, masculine, equally wet one was an instinctive reaction. She would have had to have been tied up _not_ to follow through on it.

To Booth's credit, he ignored the abuse she had been giving him just prior to the sudden surge of affection, and held her tightly, like she needed to be. _Thank God he was alright._

"Get back in the car. I'll figure this out, alright?"

She could have gone on a diatribe about how sexist it was for him to assume she was any less capable of determining the cause of their engine difficulties. However, any of those inclinations had dissolved against the wetness of his shirt, and at the fierce protectiveness she saw in his eyes when they parted. She returned to the car, where she sat shivering with her eyes closed. It was vaguely disturbing, she thought, just how much she was wishing for him to return to her side and hold her, warm her.

It couldn't have been too long before she heard the hood of the car slam down, and the rush of wind that came in as he opened the door and sat, dripping, next to her. She watched interestedly as he turned the key. A brief sputter...and then the engine turned. _Oh, Thank God_. He turned the heat up full blast, before turning and looking at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, reaching over thoughtlessly to swipe at the plentiful raindrops dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. "Just...drive."

But there was a problem. He wasn't moving. They were just sitting there with the engine idling.

"Booth. _What is it now_??"

"Well..." He hesitated.

"What?"

"The kitty..."

Her eyes turned disbelieving. "You're kidding me."

"Nothing other than rats and spiders should be living in that awful house, Bones. And I'm already wet...it'll just take a second..." His face looked pleading. She wasn't sure if she were disgusted or endeared. Whichever it was, she found she couldn't say no.

"Stop explaining and just go get the damn cat," she said, eyes rolling.

"Thank you, Bones." He flashed her a smile that made her freezing cold body feel temporarily warm.

"Booth!"

"I'm going, I'm going."

Warming her hands by pressing them directly up against the heating vents, she found herself waiting for him. Again. She was never going to forgive him for making her worry again. Ever.

Unless she found herself needing to be warmed up again.

--

A puddle dipped onto the shining hardwood around his shoes as they waited in the front room of the Bed and Breakfast. Shivering, he stood close to his partner in front of a large oak desk, and the short, squat man who had answered the door hustled back over towards them with a small ledger.

"Yes, we have one room available," he said quickly.

"Thank god," she muttered.

She was quaking with the cold, and Booth wrapped an arm around her, and rather than tucking slightly closer, she turned instantly into his body and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his neck and pressing into his body heat.

He locked eyes with the man over her head. "How many beds?"

The man frowned. "Well… one." He glanced at the two of them, locked in an embrace. "Did you and your wife need more than one bed? Do you have a child with you as well?"

_We have a cat in the car,_ he thought desperately, wondering if that could be used as an excuse. He shook his head. "No, no. We aren't –"

"We'll take it," Bones announced in a muffled voice from where her face was buried against his throat.

He felt his heart quicken at the thought. Glancing back at the owner, he saw him waiting, pen poised above the ledger and nodded. "We'll take it," he repeated hoarsely.

While the man filled out the quick paperwork and hunted for a key, he found himself rubbing slow circles on his partner's back under her jacket, trying to warm her. She really was cold, her teeth chattering and her skin covered with gooseflesh.

"Here you are," the owner said finally, holding out a key attached to a gold, oval disc. "You're on the second floor, first room on the right."

Bones suddenly pulled quickly from his arms and snatched the key from the man's hand. "Thank you," she said breezily, grabbing her purse and heading immediately for the stairs.

He turned to offer the man an apologetic look. "She's… she's very cold. She just needs a hot shower," he muttered.

The owner looked unaffected. "Do you need any help with your luggage, sir?"

"Luggage?" He blushed. How was he supposed to explain why they had no luggage? "Oh, no… we. We'll get it, thank you," he said quickly.

Nodding, the man turned away to file away the form and credit slip Booth had signed with Bones still in his embrace.

He glanced at the stairway where his partner had disappeared in her hurry to get to their room. _Their room_, one they would share. Together. Alone.

He gulped. Now he was scared.

--

This was not good. Any of it. While this setting was distinctly less _horrible_ than their last, there were problems. For one, she couldn't seem to get the water temperature in the shower past lukewarm. This was a problem because she felt to be rapidly approaching hypothermia, the rain having (just as she predicted) soaked her through to her underwear. Problem two was that until said clothes and underwear dried, she had little else to cover her. And the tiny white robe provided by the bed and breakfast seemed insufficient when she actually needed a parka.

Problem three was that she was becoming just a little too comfortable with hugging her partner when she was cold or scared or just mildly inconvenienced. She _really_ needed to get that under control before they decided on their sleeping arrangements for tonight.

Emerging from the bathroom to complain about the tepid water, her words faded on her lips, and she crossed her arms and smirked slightly. "I'm pretty sure that goes against the policy of this place."

Her partner looked up at her guiltily from his position prone on the bed. He too was wearing one of the robes (a larger one, thankfully). Lying across his chest, happily kneading the bare skin of his chest where the robe gapped, was their new friend, looking completely content as Booth scratched him behind the ears. "I couldn't just leave him in the _car_. That can't be good for the upholstery. Besides, I needed to dry him off." Two balled-up towels laid beside the bed.

Her amusement turned to jealousy. The cat looked warm and dry. Which was more than could be said for her. "It'd be warmer under the covers, you know."

"I didn't want to disturb Fraidy."

"You named him. Fraidy."

"Last name 'Cat,'" Booth told her sheepishly. "It seemed appropriate."

Again, she felt something that oddly bordered between frustration and affection. She had to admit, there was something just ridiculously...adorable about a grown man making such concessions for this tiny creature. _Very grown_, her id commented to her, taking in the skin that was reddening under Fraidy's ecstatic attentions. A shiver hit her suddenly at the thought, and she wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, beginning to shiver again as the air chilled her damp skin and hair.

Booth looked at her concernedly, his hand stilling on the cat's head. "Are you okay? Did you get warmed up?"

"No. The water wasn't very warm."

"Oh my God, Bones. You should have said something right away." He nudged at the cat, who let out an indignant 'meow' at being displaced onto the floor. "You have to get under the covers."

Despite how attractive the thought sounded, she hesitated. They had laid in the same bed before, when they were undercover on assignment. At that time, they were wearing considerably more clothes.

Thunder crashed outside, rain blew against the window, and an involuntary squeak left her. She had never felt so on edge in her entire life. "In bed," he commanded. This time, she didn't hesitate. Climbing in, she curled into a fetal position.

Dropping the sheet and blanket across her shoulders, he tucked the edges in around her slightly trembling body. His arm wrapped around her from behind, and she could feel the warmth of his breath tickling the back of her neck, which made her shiver harder. "Is that better?" he asked softly. He was still outside of the covers...trying to make her less embarrassed and more comfortable, likely. She wished, for just a moment, that he'd stop being such a damn gentleman.

"Still cold," she murmured, backing her body up against him as much as she could.

He sounded helpless. "What can I do to help, Bones?"

Her near-hypothermia spoke for her. As well as, perhaps, something a bit less innocent. "Get under with me."

There wasn't a response for a few seconds, and she felt colder. When the words had come out, she hadn't realized there was any part of her that feared his rejection. Finally, she felt him move. The bed beneath her and the covers above her shifted, and then, his gloriously warm body was pressed against her back. She could feel the heat of his chest, warmed by the cat earlier, making her back glow, and his bare legs nestling into the crooks of hers. His hand rested directly overtop the knot of her robe. And overtop, the butterflies in her stomach.

How was it possible to feel so safe and scared at the same time?

--

His hand stilled, hovering above the cat on his chest when the door to the bathroom opened a his partner emerged. Her hair was still damp and starting to curl around her face, and the small, white robe that matched his that she'd pulled on to cover herself stopped at mid-thigh. She looked smaller and softer with her clothes off, with her hair down and her face scrubbed clean and bare. And beautiful. Her legs looked like they were a million miles long.

_Oh, crap._

He replaced his look of shock with one of guilt quickly, scrubbing behind the cats ears, claiming that he couldn't have just left the little guy in the car, babbling on about the upholstery. She eyed the cat warily, and something flickered in her eyes he almost missed. _Was that... jealousy_? No way.

"It'd be warmer under the covers, you know," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

He found himself again blathering on about the kitten, blurting out the first name that came to mind, feeling clever until he saw her eyebrow arched delicately in response.

And then she shivered, and he forgot about his own ridiculousness in his worry for her, his hand pausing from where it stroked the cat nestled against his chest. "Are you okay? Did you get warmed up?"

She shook her head, claiming the water had never gotten warm and he sent the cat to the floor with one not-so-subtle nudge that made it let out an irritated yowl. _Tough shit, kitty._

She hesitated when he suggested she climb in bed, and he waited to see what she would do. He was still quite chilly himself, but he thought remaining on top of the covers while she climbed underneath would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

A loud clap of thunder made her jump and let out a squeak, and he lifted the edge of the blanket and commanded that she join him. He'd never seen her so on edge before, and as she crawled in next to him, she snapped instantly into a fetal position, shivering wildly.

He scooted towards her immediately, curling his body around hers as he tucked the blankets tightly under her chin. "Is that better?" he whispered, worried for her. He wanted to get closer, to offer her more heat, but didn't want to be inappropriate. And having the blankets between them might be a good thing. This whole night had gotten completely out of hand, and he'd never expected for it to end with him in bed in some tiny romantic inn with her up against him.

She pushed her hips backwards towards his own, tucking closer, and he fought back a groan. "Still cold," she managed, her whole body shaking beneath the flimsy robe.

He felt torn between trying to hold onto his own sanity and keep some bit of distance, and the need to comfort her. "What can I do, Bones?" he asked. He felt helpless.

"Get under with me."

Her words stopped his breath. _Get under with me._ The moments ticked by, and she shivered again, not speaking, simply waiting for him. And what could he do? Tell her no? Say, _No, Bones. I couldn't possibly. Because I've dreamed about this moment more than once. And I have a few ideas about how to really warm you up?_

He'd probably leave this place with one less testicle if he shared those feelings. At least.

But she continued to shiver, and he took a deep breath, shifting his hips to pull the covers out from underneath him. And then he was pressing against her, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly against his pelvis, the narrow breadth of her shoulders locking like a puzzle piece against his chest. He slowly wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand resting on the knot of her robe -- the only spot that left his hand unable to feel her beneath the thin terry cloth. Already, he could feel his body responding to the feeling of her against him.

That haunted house had been nothing. He was terrified.

He tilted his pelvis away from her slightly, but she only followed, and he stifled a groan, shifting to cover up his embarrassment. She let out a soft sigh, her shivering having subsided somewhat, and he could smell her skin at the nape of her neck, fresh from her shower. Above his forearm, her breasts pillowed against the front of the robe, and he was just about to suggest cocooning her in blankets to keep her warm instead of _this_ when she suddenly tucked her feet back against his legs and he let out a hiss.

"Bones! My _god_! Warn a man!"

"Sorry," she mumbled, making no move to remove the blocks of ice from his calves.

He tried to escape her and she only followed. "Your feet are _freezing_!" he groused. "Have a heart!"

"If you don't share your body heat I'm going to have to have toes amputated, Booth," she shot back. "How would you like to be responsible for that?"

"Oh, give me a _break_," he said, rolling his eyes. "My feet are cold and you don't see me trying to send you into cardiac arrest!"

She was about to snap back a retort when two paws and little black ears popped up on the edge of the bed. Before he could warn her, the cat suddenly bounded up next to his partner and started purring loudly, rubbing the side of its cheek against hers.

"_Hey_!" she whined, her hands trapped under the covers. "Booth! Get your cat away from me!"

He ignored her for a moment, enjoying her irritation after having to deal with her arctic feet. He stretched his neck to peer over her shoulder in time to see the cat lick the tip of her nose and she squirmed underneath the covers in his arms. "Oh, yuck. That cat just killed a mouse! That's disgusting!"

He chuckled. "You have to be kidding me. You dig through corpses -- you're grossed out by a cat tongue?"

"My corpses don't lick me," she countered grumpily. "And you're the one who wanted to take home the damn cat. It should be licking _your_ nose."

"It's probably cold too, alright?"

As if God wasn't trying to torture him enough, the cat suddenly decided to burrow under the covers, cuddling up between her breasts.

_Lucky cat._

"Aren't animals supposed to only like people if _they_ like animals?" she muttered. "This cat probably has fleas, Booth."

"You don't like animals?" It surprised him, and he rested his chin on her shoulder, peering at the cat as its nose peeked out from under the blanket against her chest. He had to admit, it was incredibly cute to see an animal snuggled so close to her, wanting her attention.

She was silent for a moment. "I don't _dislike_ them. I just... don't know this cat. Or... where it's been."

He was about to say something when she suddenly let out a yelp, rolling over towards him. "Oh my god, that tickles!"

He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned his head down to look at the cat, and she turned hers at the same time.

And suddenly he was staring into her eyes, their faces only a breath apart.

"Oh," she said on a breath. "Hi..."

His heart was pounding, and he hovered above her for a moment before reality hit him and he pulled back a few inches, glancing back down at the cat. "Was it his whiskers?"

"Huh?" she asked, her lids at half-mast, her cheeks suddenly flushed.

"That tickled you," he managed.

She suddenly yelped again, and her hands flew out from under the covers, scrambling for the cat. "Oh my god! Booth! He's digging his claws into me! Get him off!"

Awkwardly, he reached for the cat where it was nestled between her breasts, attempting to pull it off of her when the cat decided to be difficult, digging its claws into her robe, latching on. As he tried to detach the upset kitten, she continued to moan and complain, squirming as much as the animal, and he was starting to feel like his head was going to explode.

"Bones, hold still, dammit -- and stop bitching at me!"

"Get if off of me! This is _your_ cat. _You're_ the one who wanted to take it out of the damn house!"

He tried to tug the cat again and it stubbornly held on, letting out a squeak, and as he pulled, the gap in the front her robe got bigger, revealing inch after inch of her tantalizing skin and he clenched his eyes shut.

"I swear to god, if you don't get this cat off of me in two seconds --"

"I'm _trying_ --"

"If this thing scratches me and I get some sort of infection --"

Overwhelmed and desperate for her to stop shouting at him, his hands full of squirming kitten, he did the only thing he could think of to shut her up.

He kissed her.

Her initial shock wore off in seconds, and he expected her to give him a hard shove, but instead her mouth opened slightly in her surprise, and after a moment, he felt the brush of her tongue.

_Oh, god. She was kissing him back._

The cat let out a yelp as he finally managed to yank it free from her robe, his mouth staying firmly planted on hers, and she followed him with her body as he lifted up and his arms sent their new pet sailing off the bed. It was only on their way down back to the mattress that they broke apart, and he suddenly swallowed thickly at the sight of his partner beneath him, wide eyed and chest heaving.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the cat's fault, she decided. All of it. If Fraidy hadn't knocked over every object that wasn't tied down in that old house, they would have just continued on in that creepy mansion until Booth couldn't take it (which surely would have been minutes after his battery died) and she won the damn bet and could move on with her life. And if the damn cat didn't decide that she should be his new snuggle buddy-slash-scratching post, she certainly wouldn't be in this particular compromising position. Her body was warming from her struggles with the cat and her proximity to her partner. And she was fighting, although she wasn't exactly sure anymore what she was fighting against. All she knew was that she couldn't possibly turn her thoughts exclusively to Booth and his strong arms and his perfectly warming chest or else bad things would happen. Bad, bad things...

And it was only because she worked so hard to prevent that, that she was surprised by his lips being the thing that arrested the insults flowing from hers. Suddenly, all those bad things felt just far too good. The weight of his upper body on hers...the scratch of stubble from his jaw on her face...the taste of his mouth, like rainwater and something deeper and hotter and more masculine, making her hungry. Her tongue darted out by instinct, touching his, and she gasped at the sensation of electricity that shot through her at the contact. He was still pulling the now-forgotten cat from her, and when it finally released its claws from her robe with a yowl, he brought her back down to the pillows, their mouths separating.

Her heart was pounding, much like it had been earlier in the night when she feared for the safety of her partner. But now was right here. And he had _kissed her_.

"You kissed me," she said weakly. She wasn't sure if it were an accusation, or a question, or a mere acknowledgement.

His tempting, swollen lips (the lips that had _just been on hers_) hovered there, inches from hers. His wide, darkened eyes held embarrassment, and something else... "Yeah," he replied slowly. "I...wanted you to stop yelling at me...and my hands were busy with the cat...so..." He ended there. As if that explained everything.

"Oh," she whispered.

They stayed still, eyes locked for a long moment, both afraid to move.

"Booth," she finally said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm having...that feeling again."

"Which one?"

"My muscles feel tense. My breathing has become more rapid...my heart rate has increased...my skin is tingling..."

"You seem to be a little flushed," he murmured, two fingers brushing over her cheek. "And your pupils are enlarged..."

She shook a little at his touch. "Booth...why have I been so afraid tonight?" She was looking at him desperately, his kiss seeming to have pulled honesty from her lips.

The heat in his eyes was melting her, little by little. "I don't know," he whispered back. "But I feel it too..."

At his admission, she suddenly felt a surge of an emotion that seemed suspiciously like...courage. She could deal with this. She could be strong in the face of everything that was here in this room between them. She was Temperance Brennan. And he was her partner. Before her boldness could dissipate, she squirmed one hand out from under the covers, moved it to the back of his head, and tugged his lips back where they belonged.

She felt his immediate response to her, both the hard and the soft of him, and heard the strangled moan that vibrated in his throat and into her mouth. Suddenly, there was _nothing_ on her that was cold. Shifting her body so that it was flush against his, she felt all of him for the first time, thigh-to-thigh, chest-to-chest, the tight, hard length of him pressing at the crux of her...and it felt so damned good.

And then he sprung away.

"Bones," he gasped, pulling at the robe that was threatening to become too small to contain him. "We've been through an...ordeal...tonight and I don't think we're thinking quite straight..."

Even though she was only a few minutes past making excuses herself, she was tired of them. "Booth. Don't," she whispered, in a voice that would have been reasonable if she wasn't so fucking turned on right now.

He looked at her as if desperate for her understand. "You terrify me," he said, softly, reverently.

--

She blinked at his admission, and he dropped back onto his back on the mattress, covering his eyes with his hands. _There was just no delicate way out of THIS, now, was there?  
_

They should have stayed in that damn house with all its creepy, creaky floorboards and spiders and rats. It would have been safer. He could feel the warmth now radiating off of her, could pick up her natural, alluring scent as she shifted amongst the sheets.

She scooted closer, he could feel the bed shift, and when he peeked at her through the slits between his fingers, she had propped herself up on her elbow, watching him. "I do?"

Nothing was ever easy with this woman, and he had a feeling this would be no exception. Sighing, he kept his eyes firmly on the ceiling, and the cat was suddenly up next to him again -- it stepped gingerly onto his chest, unsure whether it would again be tossed to the floor.

He rested his hand on the cat gently, stroking its fur lightly. "Yes, you do."

"Why?"

Sometimes she reminded him of his son when she pushed like this -- she either ignored his body language entirely, or she didn't notice. It was hard to tell.

"Because... you're... my partner. And we work together. And partners should have... boundaries. There's a line, remember? A line. And kissing, well... that crosses it."

"You kissed me first," she pointed out bluntly.

"I was trying to --"

"Silence me, I remember," she said slowly. "Do you kiss everyone you want to stop talking?"

She had a point. As always. Sighing, he set the cat gently near the foot of the bed and sat up, looking at her. "No, no I don't."

"Did you want to kiss me or not?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "You aren't being clear or at all rational, Booth."

"People aren't always rational," he muttered. "And yeah, maybe I wanted to kiss you a little. _And_ shut you up. But the point is, I shouldn't have done it. It crossed the line."

"You seem very concerned with this 'line'," she murmured. "You mention it quite often."

"Because it's _important_," he insisted, raking his hand through his still-damp hair. "It sets boundaries, it keeps things from getting out of hand, from emotions getting too tangled up and messy --"

She frowned again. "So... by not kissing me, emotions don't get messy? Kissing me makes you feel differently? I'm not sure I follow."

_God, she was frustrating._ "Listen, Bones," he muttered, shifting to face her. "I'm just saying that we're crossing --"

"A line. Yes, I know," she finished for him. "So you've said."

For some reason, the casual tone in her voice irked him, and he suddenly wanted her to understand the gravity of what he was talking about, to make her realize that what would happen between them wouldn't just be casual fun and games. That it would have weight, consequence. Moving towards her, he pushed her shoulder gently to roll her onto her back, and her eyes widened as she dropped back down to the mattress. He braced himself above her, his hands next to either side of her head, and he could see the pulse already fluttering at her throat as he leaned in, stopping about an inch or so above her.

"Yes, a line," he said, his voice low. "A major line, one that doesn't get crossed back over, you understand? Partners don't kiss, or touch one another while wearing little white robes. Or sleep in the same bed. Or... make love," he said quietly. "Because when they do that, they're no longer just partners."

_"Oh..."_ she exhaled on a breath, her eyes locked with his. "Booth..?"

He sucked in a breath. "What?"

"What if I...what if I _think_ about those things -- is that the same? Is that crossing the line?"

He groaned, heat moving swiftly through his body from head to toe at her words. "Bones, don't say that."

She frowned, puzzled by his response, and if he weren't feeling ready to pass out or possibly explode, he probably would have laughed at her confusion. "Why not?"she finally said slowly. "It's the truth."

He looked down into her face, her eyes wide and bright, her cheeks flushed pink in the lamplight, the white terry cloth robe revealing the tops of her breasts, and he knew he was a goner. What kind of man could be expected to walk away from a woman they so desperately wanted, who was lying beneath him, asking why not?

_Please let her be the one to decide. Please let her turn away, to pull up the covers and go to sleep._

He took in a shuddering breath, about to push up and off of her, to ensure that they didn't have any more body contact than they already did, when she suddenly spoke.

"I've thought about your line," she said quietly, her eyes dropping from his. "And I think I see what you're saying."

"So you understand?" he said in relief. "You understand why it's a bad idea?"

And then her eyes were back on his, blazing. And she grabbed the front of his robe in her small fist, tugging him down. "Kiss me again."

--

She wasn't going to let him get away with this. _Especially_ not after he had challenged her. Temperance Brennan didn't back away from a challenge. And Seeley Booth...well...she knew he was brave. That had already been established. Surely he could overcome an invisible line of his own construction.

He could also kiss. Very, very well. And he was very bravely exploring her mouth right now with his tongue. _There we go, Booth. Isn't this better than talking this to death?_ As if answering her unspoken question, he cupped her head, letting the entirety of his weight press her into the mattress while he tilted her face to have better access. _Oh my_. Who knew that a man could do _that_ with his tongue? She was learning all sorts of new things tonight.

His new enthusiasm was breathtaking. Her hand, which had been trapped between their bodies, found the spot at his chest where his robe gapped, and slipped into it. She touched smooth skin and hard muscle. He hissed at the first true touch of her hand on his body, and she felt a surge of dampness from between her thighs. From touching his fucking shoulder.

"Is this one of those things that partners don't do?" she asked him on a gasp as their lips separated.

"Yes," he swore, lowering his head and pressing his lips to her jaw, sucking at the skin there.

She used the little mobility she had to push the soft white cotton down over his shoulder and trace her fingertips down over his bare back. The muscles there twitched. She sighed appreciatively.

"How about this?" she whispered.

"Yes." He was laying delicate kisses around the hollow of her throat, the top of her chest. Pushing the sleeve of her robe down too, he nipped at her shoulder.

She fought to get her arms underneath them, to wrap them around his waist like she did when she was cold and shivering in the lobby. Only in the lobby, she hadn't put her hands directly on his ass. Or thrust her hips into his so that she could test the way he fit against her. "Jesus," she heard him murmur against her shoulder.

"This?"

"Yes," he choked out, "All of it." He was rocking gently against her, and it was making her insane with desire. "But it feels so goddamn good..."

Agreed. His newly intrepid hands were parting her robe inch by inch, and he was getting dangerously close to her aching breasts. Her head fell back against the pillows and she moaned her relief at finally having him where she wanted him. Then...

"_Dammit._ Okay. That's enough."

He rolled off of her, and she nearly cried at the loss. He was leaving her hanging _again_ because he was too afraid to go through with this...

Then she saw the true culprit for the interruption. He scooped Fraidy up off the bed, where he had been dumped off Booth's back. "You've gotta go, little guy," he said, clearly frustrated, and he stalked away towards the door and the small hallway that separated this bedroom from the living area. His robe, hanging from his body in several places, was barely covering him, and she appreciated the view for a second while he tossed the intrusive feline into the hall. "Okay," he said, brushing his hands off and beginning to turn back to her. "Now maybe we can..."

They were the last words that he could say before her lips connected with his and she sent him reeling back into the hall with the force of her kiss.

"I'm not waiting for you anymore," she murmured.

--

He dumped the cat from his hands and its feet hit the floor with a soft thud. "Okay," he muttered, turning back towards the bed, about to explain that maybe _now_ they could be alone, when his body was suddenly sailing through the door as well, his partner's palms against his chest, her mouth pressed hotly to his. Surprised, he stumbled, and she whispered against his lips that she didn't really plan on waiting for him.

Which may have been the hottest thing anyone had said to him -- ever. She couldn't even wait for him to come back to bed??

She turned as she shoved him, and his back connected with the wall of the short hallway, the fixture on the ceiling swaying slightly with the impact. And then she was kissing him again, and her hands slipped to the front of his robe and yanked the belt until the knot gave way and he was left only in a pair of boxers, the robe hanging loosely from his shoulders.

"Bones --" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I --"

Her mouth covered his again, her tongue thrusting past his teeth to tangle with his own, and he finally recovered enough to respond. Tilting his head, he kissed her deeply, the taste of her on his tongue, the silkiness of her mouth intoxicating him. He reached down inside the robe and cupped her ass, feeling the lace panties she wore, and he lifted her up against him. She took it one step further, jumping up, her legs scissoring around his hips as he pushed off the wall and pressed her into it on the opposite side of the hall. He kept one arm firmly around her waist, and he pressed his palm of the other flat against the wall by her head, his mouth opening against the skin of her throat.

She was moaning, her hips tilting up to his, and he pressed back into her, nipping on her earlobe before whispering huskily, "Didn't want to wait, huh?"

"No!" she gasped as his breath touched her ear, and she shuddered. "Oh, god..."

He lifted her higher against the wall until her breasts were in front of him, and he reached out, slowly circling the tip of one with his tongue. She trembled beneath him, and he barely heard her pleas, his own head a fog of desire. He teased her for several moments before he finally tugged her nipple into his mouth. Her response was instantaneous and incredibly sexy -- one of her hands flew into his hair, the other dug into his shoulder, the nails biting his skin. The tip of her breast was pebble-hard, and he rolled his tongue over it several times before suckling deeply, and her hips bucked against him. Pulling back, he took a deep breath. If he didn't get a handle on himself, this would be over before it really even began -- he was that hot for her already.

She was flushed and panting in his arms, her ankles crossed tightly behind his back, her chest heaving beautifully, the rose flush just visible in the tips of her breasts in the hall light. He cupped the back of her head in his palm, capturing her lips again with his own, and she moaned into his mouth, pressing the length of herself against him, her breasts pillowing against his bare chest. God, could she kiss. She tasted like the rain that still battered the windows, fresh and clean, and everywhere he kissed her, he could feel her pulse beneath her skin. She was breathtakingly, shockingly alive in his arms.

He finally ripped his mouth from hers, gasping for air. "How far do you want to go with this?" he rasped, his head spinning as he waited for her answer.

But she didn't speak -- she simply grabbed his hair in her fist and yanked his mouth back to hers, and he spun off the wall, her body still clutched to his. Bursting past the door, he turned and kicked it shut, heading swiftly towards the bed, and when he reached it he tossed her amongst the sheets, following her body down.

--

_"How far do you want to go with this?"_

Now why would he ask a woman that when she was obviously lost, nearly incoherent in her own desire? It was an important question. She knew, indisputably, that she wanted to go as far as the bed, as far as the parts of his body that she had yet to explore...those were the things she knew for sure. But in order to quiet the first words that threatened to escape from her..."_As far as we can...the whole way..." _she had to lock her lips onto his again, make sure she was too breathless to say the words.

He carried her effortlessly back to the bed, kicked the door shut behind them, and dropped her into the safe haven of the bed. Her robe had been stretched to the limit during his attentions in the hall, and now his trembling hands worked to untie it, to see her unadorned and bare. She was surprised by a rush of shyness when the robe finally parted and she had wriggled out of it...she was _never_ shy about her body, about sex, but this...he looked at her like no man had ever looked at her, intently, awe-struck, like she was the fucking _air_ that he needed to breathe. Gooseflesh broke out over her whole body, one one of his fingers trailing down between her breasts and onto her stomach exacerbating the condition.

"I don't want you to be cold," he said, in a voice deepened in arousal. Arousal because of _her_. "Ever."

"Then warm me up," she begged, not even knowing entirely what she was asking for. But when he laid down and pulled her on top of him, her stiffened nipples pressing firmly into his bare chest while he wrapped his open robe around her and cocooned them together, she knew she had gotten exactly what she needed. As she kissed him again, desperately, she was struck by overwhelming need to show him just how good it could feel to face down one's fears.

"I knew you'd feel good underneath me," she said softly, undulating gently against the evidence of his arousal.

He uttered something that might have been a curse at her movements. "You've really thought about..."

"You haven't?" Raising up just a little, she began to suck gently down his throat. The rain hadn't washed away the musky scent of him, that she always wondered about the taste of...

"I tried not to." She delighted in his gasp as her teeth delicately scraped the skin of his chest, then her lips soothed the sting away.

"Me too. It didn't work," she told him, voice muffled against him, tracing the lower part of his pectoral muscles with her tongue. God, he was a sexy man...

"Tell me about it." He was squirming now while her hands grasped his hips, lips becoming familiar with each divot in his stomach. "Bones...what are you doing..."

"Going as far as I want to go..." She was hypnotized by the taste of him, the feel of him. Her fingers hooked in the band of his boxers and tugged lightly, exposing the trail of downy hair that disappeared into the one last place she had yet to discover. She licked at it.

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled by her shoulders, lifted away from where she wanted to be...she gave a little cry of frustration and surprise as she found herself flipped again onto her back.

"I have places I want to go too," he told her, huskily, the fingers of one large hand cupping her breast, squeezing lightly at her nipple while the other ran down her body, stroking with a butterfly touch over her sex and down to her inner thighs. "And I don't want things to end before I get there..."

She gave an involuntary whimper as an electric sensation followed every place his hands went. "God, Seeley..."

"So fucking sexy," he swore before kissing her again, passionately, and she wasn't sure if he meant her body, her cursing, or the sound of his name leaving her lips. And it didn't matter, because now his hand was in her panties, fingers brushing against and delving into her slickness, and she had never been so turned on by a touch in her life. He swallowed the moan that left her when one finger sunk deep inside of her, his thumb brushing her clit.

"Holy..." Her hips rose off the bed, trying desperately to get him in deeper, get more of his touch, but he stroked her slowly, soothingly. He was warming her from the inside out, making her feel incredible, making her feel like she was going to fall... His finger flicked against her clit again. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Booth...want you..." she whined.

"Bones," he said, in a strangled voice. "Are you..."

"Safe? Yes. You?"

"Yes. Thank _God_."

She might have laughed if she wasn't so close to orgasming against his fingertips. "Please..." She wasn't one to beg, but many exceptions to the rules were being made on this night, and practically unconsciously, her hands were plucking at his boxers, trying to get them out of the way.

"Okay, okay," he breathed, helping her with his underwear, trying to pull off her own without having to take his fingers off of her. He sat between her legs, looking amazing, looking so ready for her that she could barely believe he had waited this long. "Come here, Temperance."

She struggled to sit, reached for him, readied herself to climb onto his waiting lap...then hesitated. "Booth..."

"It's okay. I'm afraid too," he admitted sofly, reaching out, cupping her cheeks. When his thumb brushed her lower lip, she trembled, and she could see his struggle and still, he was thinking of her. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Meeting his eyes, falling into them, she felt strong again. She straddled him with knees to either side of his hips, wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders. Yes. He was safe. He was her shelter. Burying her face in his neck, she lowered herself onto him slowly. His hands were on her hips, gripping at them convulsively as she sheathed him, his breath joining hers in a pant. Joined completely, she adjusted herself, wrapping her legs around his back, pressing her chest against his, feeling him filling her more fully than anyone ever had before.

"Let me see you," he pleaded.

She had to force herself to raise her head, to meet his eyes. In them, she faced her fears.

--

She struggled to meet his eyes, hesitating, and when she said his name, he new she was finally realizing what it was they were really doing.

He cupped her face in his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I'm afraid too," he promised. He stroked her lower lip gently with his thumb, trying to quell the response in his body if she wanted to stop. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She paused for a moment, and then he saw a shift in her, saw the color of her eyes brighten and gleam, and she was moving towards him, climbing into his lap, wrapping her arms around him. His hands fell to her hips, and as she lowered herself onto him, he sucked in a deep breath, clutching her tightly.

And at that moment, he trusted everything, his fear floated away. They had been building towards this since the day they'd met, and her head fell to his neck, her breath warm and sweet against his throat. He slipped his hand up to stroke her hair, wanting to see her eyes, his whole body reacting to being inside of hers, his heart quickening.

"Let me see you," he begged. His voice was breathless, wanting.

Again she hesitated, but she slowly lifted her chin, and in the low light of the room, her eyes shimmered, locking with his. And she moved, slowly, lifting her hips, enclosing him within her, and he slid his hand to the back of her head, tugging her down to kiss her deeply. Her skin was flushed and damp, a sheen of sweat making her slightly slick beneath his fingers, the chill from earlier all but gone. She was so beautiful, _this_ was beautiful, everything he'd ever imagined it to be. Because the truth was, what he'd told her in that diner that night -- he hadn't known what he'd promised her, not to this extent. What he'd had was faith, faith that if two people found one another and came together this was what it could be like. And now he understood, now he knew.

This was what making love meant. As their lips broke apart, he could see her own realization; could see it in the slight widening in her eyes, in the way her lips parted. He gasped as she rose up again, lifting, and he followed, their rhythm increasing along with their accelerating heartbeats, and he clung to her, his hands everywhere, tangling into her hair and sliding down her back again to her hips.

_"Seeley_," she panted, and his name, his _first_ name on her lips nearly brought him to the edge alone. Their lips met and parted, breaths exchanging, and he moaned low in his throat, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other tipping back her head so that he could press open-mouthed kisses against the damp skin of her throat

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her hips rolling more quickly, and she gasped suddenly, her knees pressing into his sides. "Oh, _god_, I'm going to --"

_"Yes,"_ he rasped. "Come with me, Temperance -- please... come with me..."

Her hips undulated again, clenching him tight, and she moaned, her head falling back. But he wanted to see her, wanted to see her eyes as she came, and so he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her towards him. "Look at me!" he begged again.

Her eyes met his, and everything felt hot and tight and ready to explode as he saw himself reflected in the deep blue pools, and that's where he dove as his body tipped over into hers, drowning in her, making them one.

--

She made to open her eyes, but at the first slit of them, slammed them back shut. It was hard to believe that it was meterologically possible...a morning so bright after a night so stormy. But the sunlight was undeniable...seemingly mocking them. _See?_ it said to her. _There's nothing scary around here. Nothing at all..._

Stretching sinuously, she was reminded by the pleasurable, warm, heaviness in her lower limbs of the activities that culminated their adventure last night. Her hands felt blindly for the person who had been the benefactor of all those good feelings. Her fingers fell on his smooth, soft...fur?

Squinting into the morning light, she saw the outline of the creature napping on her (equally snoozing) partner's chest. "You little brat," she said softly, sleepily.

The cat turned its head and yawned, stretching a paw out to her reaching hand. He must have scooted back into the bedroom during their brief interlude in the hallway last night. Thankfully, Fraidy had enough sense to leave the two be after having been so unceremoniously tossed at his last interruption.

Her eyes having adjusted, she glanced up at Booth's face. He was snoring softly, the edges of his mouth turned up slightly as if he were having a good dream. He was dead to the world. Knowing that he wasn't cognizant of her actions at the moment, she reached again, slowly stroking the cat's silky fur. Its eyes closed in pleasure, and a low purr emanated from its throat. She smiled slightly. "You wanna come here?" she whispered, wiggling her fingers temptingly. Fraidy eyed her and reached with a paw again, but refused to leave the warmth of Booth's chest.

"Ah, I don't blame you," she sighed. She gave him a soft rub at the base of his tail. "You like Booth, don't you? You like your Daddy." Embarrassed at her own anthropomorphizing, she looked up at her partner again to be sure of his continued slumber. Scratching the cat under his chin, she forced it to meet her eyes. "Just don't you forget, Buster," she said softly, seriously. "He's _mine_."

The cat's yellow gaze promised nothing.

"You really shouldn't taunt animals, Bones," a sleepy, raspy voice warned. "It won't get you anywhere."

She rolled her eyes and fell to her back again, embarrassed but not entirely surprised at being caught. "I wasn't _taunting_. I was just...warning."

Her eyes flicked to the side to see his amused, handsome face.

"You love the cat," he goaded.

"I do not."

"You so do. You want to take it home with us and be its Mommy."

"I so don't."

He was grinning. "It really does take after your side, Bones. All feisty and stubborn and...rawr..."

"Get that fleabag off of you, Booth." Reaching under the covers, she grabbed a handful of his thigh and pinched, creating a chain effect where he jumped and the cat jumped down with an annoyed chirp.

"Hey," he laughed. "Now look what you did..." She squeezed his leg again, this time a little higher up, and more gently. "Well..._that_ might get you somewhere." Flipping his body over sideways, he trapped her in his arms, giving her a deep and thorough good-morning kiss which she smiled straight through.

How easy this felt. How natural...

Raising up off of her and onto his elbow, he studied her intently. "So. We crossed the line."

"Yes," she nodded, a bit confused by his obviousness.

"Do you suppose that makes us brave? Or stupid?" One of his thumbs reached over to trace her lower lip. She darted out her tongue to touch it, and he gave her a warning look.

"I'm not stupid. I scored well into the 99th percentile on the Weschler Intelligence Scale." She saw his mouth beginning to open in protest, and she stopped him. "I'm just kidding. We're brave."

"How do you figure?" he challenged.

"Because we feared something...and we did it anyway. That was your definition of courage, correct?"

He sighed. "You got me there, I suppose."

She nodded seriously, glad that she remembered. And that he agreed. "Although, maybe that makes us stupid, as well."

He gave her a questioning look.

"Because why would we be afraid of something so..." she trailed off.

"So orgasmic?" he said, with a wide grin. She laughed. "Hey Bones," he said, suddenly ducking underneath the covers. She felt his early-morning whiskers tickle her stomach. "I'm feeling a little...ahem...brave again."

She giggled wildly. "Booth," she gasped, twisting. "That _tickles_. Stop. Stop stop stop..." She was startled out of her squirming for a second. "Hey Booth..."

"Yeah," he said, muffled under the covers and against the tender skin of her belly.

"Did you get up and open the window last night?"

"You crazy?" he asked, climbing out from under the blankets and settling his naked, warm body on top of hers. "It was raining like crazy. We would have gotten even _more_ soaked and freezing."

"Then why are the curtains blowing?" she insisted. He un-buried his face from her throat and looked up. The drapes were billowing in the generous breeze.

"You must have gotten up and opened it."

"I _didn't_."

"Well maybe it was the cat, then." He returned to nibbling at her neck. "Mmm...tastes good."

"Booth...ah...it woud be physiologically impossi...yes, there...impossible for a cat to..." She couldn't finish because his lips were on hers, and suddenly she couldn't give two shits about the window. She explored his mouth langorously, relishing in just...being _able_ to.

A bell rang from somewhere outside the room. "Whassat?" her partner said against her mouth.

"What time was breakfast supposed to be again?

"9:30, I think." Unfortunately, _she_ couldn't think very well with him rubbing his thigh between her legs like that.

"I'm thinking that's the dinner bell," she said with a gasp as he licked at her earlobe.

"Who needs food?"

"I'm thinking we're going to need a _lot_ of fuel today," she said, logically, trying to get her brain cells functioning again.

"Hmm. Valid." With one last lingering kiss on her lips, he rolled aside and out of the bed. She watched his backside intently as he moved to close the window. "Do you suppose our clothes are dry yet?"

"I sort of hope not," she said with a grin.

--

This time, when he stood to sign the credit slip, her arms were around his waist for a different reason. He scrawled his signature across the piece of paper and looked up at the manager, offering him a wide grin.

"Did you have a pleasant night, sir?" the owner asked, a slight smile on his lips.

Booth glanced at Bones, his eyes gleaming. "Yes we did. Very pleasant."

The man filed the slip, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Wonderful. We do hope you'll come again."

"You may want to have someone look at the latch on the window," his partner mentioned, brushing her hair off her forehead. "It seems to have blown open during the night, although I'm not quite sure how. The latch looked sturdy enough."

The owner paused, and Seeley caught his slight hesitation, but the man quickly covered it up with a smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you for mentioning it."

"Are you worried about intruders?" he asked politely. "I could take a look --"

Bones squeezed his hand at his suggestion, and he suddenly remembered the cat. In the car. Most likely scratching up the upholstery.

"Intruders? Oh, no," the man said quickly. "No one bothers all the way out here. It was most likely just Earl."

Bones raised an eyebrow, and they locked eyes for a moment. "Earl?" she asked cautiously.

"Old owner of the place," the man said calmly, turning around to file their slip.

"Oh, he still lives here?" Booth managed, choking on the idea of someone in their room.

"So to speak," the man replied nonchalantly, turning around to give them a smile. "He died about twenty years back, but he visits once in a while. He's harmless though, so don't you worry none."

Seeley whipped his head around to look at his partner, and her eyes were bulging. Coughing, she glanced up at the man behind the desk. "Ghosts are a physical improbability."

"You did say your window was open, did you not?"

The both glanced at one another, nodding.

"Well, the latch and bolt is on the inside. No intruder could do that."

There was a long pause, and Booth felt his gut roll, and a slight shiver went down his spine. And suddenly Bones had his hand in hers, and she tugged him towards the door. "Right, well then. We're very important people who work for the FBI. And we have a pressing case that we have to get back to, so we'll be going back to D.C. now. Thanks again!"

He allowed her to tug him towards the door, but turned at the last moment, about to wave apologetically to the owner and blinked. The room was empty.

"Bones," he whispered, and she paused, her hand on the door.

"What?"

"Uh... where did he go?"

She frowned, her eyes moving across the room, and she stood still, her face holding the same expression she made whenever she was examining evidence and trying to come to a conclusion. And then she raised her eyes to his, her voice firm.

"Get me the hell out of here. _Right this second_."

--

**A/N: Yay! This completes the first story from 5 Steamboats Shipping Co. Whatcha think? You think it's worth it for us to focus our energies on something a little more elaborate? Would that make you happies? We are interested in making you happies:)**

**Thanks so much for reading! **

**Love,**

**Jamie & Mia**


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